


The Incandescent Rose

by truc



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman Beyond (comics and Cartoons), DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League Beyond, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Advice, Communication, F/M, Flowers, Friendship, Lack of Communication, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mystery, Old Love, Superbat Big Bang 2019, relationships are complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truc/pseuds/truc
Summary: Terry McGinnis (the new Batman) impulsively asks marriage proposal advice from his mentor and grumpy father figure Bruce Wayne. When the older man describes a proposal in which he had been yelled at and abandoned, Terry can't help investigate the matter by seeing some of Bruce's most knowledgeable friends and family members. This search prompts someone else into action.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks for [BatsAreFluffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/profile) for betaing this fic and for [lesbidar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/lesbidar) for creating an amazing artwork inspired by this work. The artwork is included at chapter 5. You can also access it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454608). The emotional depth of the piece is simply astonishing!

Most times, Terry looked forward to quieter nights and, sometimes, just reading through Bruce’s old adventures’ reports. They were dry and ancient; still, it felt strange to read how the older man had been Batman for over twenty years. Terry had barely survived three and already he felt the strain on his life.

Tonight, unfortunately, Terry was cleaning up his suit for the nth time and he could practically feel his blood pouring in his brain, granting him too much time to think.

Terry couldn’t stop himself from making uncharacteristic chatter, “Why is the Manor this so creepily kept? You know, the first time I came here, I thought you were a vampire just because of the Manor’s appearance. Dana even suggested we plant daffodils and tulips as a nice surprise to make it more welcoming, but I was pretty sure you wouldn’t have appreciated it. Although I’m sure Ace would like to trample on them.”

Bruce continued typing on the Batcomputer’s keypad in what seemed to be a routine tune-up of the old machine. Terry took a special screwdriver to open up the Batsuit for the fifth time that night. “Maybe I should have told her to go ahead with her project… I’m sure the only thing you’re missing in life is brightly coloured flowers.”

Finally, Terry’s sarcasm seemed to break through the old man’s silence. “You will not plant tulips on my property, Terry. Stop trying to destroy my Batsuit with your careless handling.”

Terry glanced down and, sure enough, he had almost got electrocuted by his own suit. He released the screwdriver and sat back, energy making him jingling his foot. “Why did you put the Batcave in an actual cave? As shway as the idea sounds on paper, I’m sure it costing you a fortune to fight against the dankness of the place. Besides, the bats around here are a bit too aggressive for my liking. Was there ever an epic fight for ownership of the place? I’m pretty sure you lost with the way they keep behaving as if it’s theirs.”

“Say it,” Old Man Wayne laconically ordered as he turned around to face Terry.

“What?” Terry asked.

The older man scowled at him. “You want to say something. Just say it instead of prattling on like a fool.”

Terry’s mouth moved much faster than his brain did. “Should I propose to Dana? I mean, that’s a big commitment to make.”

Wayne brought his hands to rest on his cane. “What are you asking me?”

Terry’s hand twisted his other one in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness. “Your thoughts.”

“Based on personal experience, don’t bother asking.” The words made Terry’s stomach drop.

“You’ve been married before?”

The old man’s eyes furrowed in displeasure. “The last person I proposed to yelled at me and stormed away. I suppose that counts as a no.”

“And here I thought the worst that could happen was being told no,” Terry dryly commented.

Terry looked in Bruce’s direction and, of course, the man was acting as if the conversation had come to an end.

“Were you actually serious about the proposal fiasco?”

The eyebrow slanted in the old man’s face as if asking him whether Terry had ever seen Bruce joke around. “Go home. Stop destroying my Batsuit.”

“That’s my Batsuit. I’m Batman,” Terry deadpanned.

Bruce slanted an eyebrow at him, “Next time you break it, you pay the repairs.”

“Fine. You paid for this fancy gadget. But, I’m the one using it. So, it’s mine too.”

***

That should have been the last of it; however, Terry’s mind wouldn’t let him rest that night. He’d tossed and turned around, incapable of slipping away into unconsciousness. It chafed his mind in a way it shouldn’t and, frankly, it wasn’t even his business.

Finally, he threw back his bed sheets. “Okay, enough. I’ll get to the bottom of Bruce’s story.”

He knew he was using it as a distraction to his own dilemma concerning asking Dana’s hand in marriage. Still, what had happened for the person Bruce had asked in marriage to act as they had? Curiosity almost made his skin itch.

***

_First meeting, Metropolis, 61 years prior_

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” the clumsy looking man offered his hand.

Bruce hated him then and there for his naivety. That was not how galas worked. You didn’t just walk up to the most powerful person in the room and introduced yourself to the amusement or disgust of the high society crowd.

Bruce beamed and wobbled unsteadily forward as he dropped an empty glass into the man’s outstretched hand. “Bring me some more of the tangy wine. It’s the best one.” He gestured dramatically to the bar.

The man in heavy glasses blinked at him, confused, then, vaguely insulted. “I’m not a waiter.”

Bruce winked at a pretty and airheaded model. “And I’m not really drunk...” The peanut gallery laughed.

The reporter didn’t run away from the mockery; he cleared his throat and politely answered, “Could you give me a quote about tonight’s fundraiser?”

Bruce turned his head and kissed the model in a sloppy movement. Their kiss went for far longer than appropriate in a public setting and more sensually than appropriate anywhere but in a bedroom. When they broke the kiss, Bruce could see the reporter was flushed but hadn’t backed down. He had guts; that, Bruce could admire.

The reporter nervously adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Wayne, the quote?”

Bruce leered at the girl. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful ‘friendship’.” The meaning of ‘friendship’ was unmistakable in the context.

The angry glint in the reporter’s eyes was also unmistakable. And Bruce found that steely look more true to his character to any of his previous shyness.

Bruce smiled and steered the model toward the exit.


	2. Barbara Gordon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry visits his first "Bruce" expert.

Terry’s devised plan was simple enough: interrogate the people who knew Bruce best.

It was therefore easy enough for him to invite the old Commissioner Gordon out for coffee to discuss the matter.

“So,” the older woman asked as she brought her cup of coffee to her lips, “what’s the problem?”

“It’s not actually a problem,” he answered. Gordon lifted one eyebrow in clear disbelief that Terry would hang out with her if he wasn’t experiencing any difficulty.

“I’m just curious about the comments the old man made yesterday.”

Gordon sipped her coffee. “I’m guessing he told something awfully cryptic and failed to elaborate.”

Terry nodded. “He told me he once asked someone’s hand in marriage and she yelled at him and stormed away.”

Gordon’s mug stilled in the air barely an inch from her mouth. The mug was carefully placed back on the table as the Commissioner simply observed, “That’s surprising.”

Terry quirked one eyebrow up. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Gordon’s lips wryly curled upwards. “When you’ve been this long in this line of work, even the most honest of us create a good poker face.”

Terry had already had a similar discussion with Bruce and he wasn’t eager to restart it with the Commissioner. “What exactly did you find surprising?” He wondered whether she found it mind-boggling taciturn Bruce Wayne could propose to someone-anyone for that matter…

The grizzled Commissioner simply answered, “I’m surprised he asked anyone’s hand in marriage and that person refused.”

Terry grimaced at the second statement. She fondly shook her head as she said, “You’ve only seen the bitter old man he’s become. When he wants to, he can be positively charming.”

“No need to tell me that,” Terry cut in, vividly reminiscing the old man’s first meeting with his mom or anyone else in his public Bruce Wayne functions. “I still have no idea how he can pull it off.”

Gordon seemed more amused than vexed by his lack of faith. “He’s got charisma, intelligence, athletic abilities, elegance, handsomeness and guts. Even when he has horrible misconceptions over other people’s feelings and healthy communication, it’s hard not to get carried away by his lead. I’m sure you’ve experienced your fair share of his particular brand of convincing.”

Again, not a subject Terry was eager to revisit.

“However,” Gordon firmly continued. “I’m more curious as to your motivation behind you bringing it up to me.” Her stare hardened.

Terry shrugged. “You’re the first on my list of people who know about his real personality and the one who seemed to be more constantly involved in his affairs because you live in Gotham.”

Her look barely softened at the explanation. “You’re not asking me because you thought he proposed to me?”

Terry leaned forward. “No. But I may as well ask you directly. Were you the one he proposed to?”

Her responding grin was equally intimidating and amusing. “He didn’t love me like that.”

Okay… Terry did know she and Bruce had once been an item, however, she didn’t think he loved in that way?

As if she was a telepath, Gordon wryly answered, “Bruce isn’t someone who wants forever with anyone. It doesn’t make his love any less genuine; it’s just a side effect of his deep commitment to his Mission.”

Terry started to feel a headache coming. “Yet, yesterday, he told me, out of the blue, he once proposed to someone.”

Gordon nodded. “That’s another thing that’s surprising about the revelation. He told you about one of his most emotionally bitter failures without being forced to. If there’s anything Bruce keeps to himself, it’s his feelings.”

Terry had to agree, “I guess that means you have no idea who he asked in marriage.”

Gordon leaned back, eyes shining briefly behind her glasses. “I don’t know. If that’s what you’re asking for.”

Terry pursed his lips in disappointment. Gordon took another sip of her coffee. “However, I don’t think it really matters to your situation.”

Terry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re thinking of asking your girlfriend in marriage, aren’t you?”

Terry’s mouth opened in disbelief. “How… How do you know?”

Gordon smiled. “It’s obvious something is gnawing at you and, because of the subject you brought up; it must be concerning being Batman and finding love, isn’t it? It’s normal to question your future with someone. Ask away.”

He leaned slightly forward, glanced around and lowered his voice. “How do you know, well, you know, when they’re the one?”

Gordon mirrored his posture with amusement. “That’s not the important thing you should be looking for. You might not end up with your ‘true’ love. What’s important is finding joint projects you can both commit to and values you both adhere to.”

Terry raised one eyebrow.

Gordon stared almost sternly at him before continuing as she straightened. “Love is important to a lasting relationship. However, what’s more essential to a lasting committed relationship is the vision you have of your future, your hopes and your common values. You have to honestly ask yourself where you see yourself and the relationship in five, ten, twenty-five years and compare it to how your partner sees themselves and your relationship in the future. That’s what Sam and I did at the beginning of our relationship. Our goals, vision and values were closely enough aligned to fit together. The most fundamental aspect of why our relationship works is that we both understand the sacrifices made in pursuit of justice. We’ve walked our paths with open eyes and I won’t ever regret marrying such a brave and good man.”

The young man silently pondered her argument for a moment. Then, he remembered one particular bit of her speech. “You said you might not end up with your ‘true’ love. What did you mean exactly by that?”

Gordon sighed and glanced at the table before looking back at him. “It’s entirely possible someone will make your heart beat like no other, that they will hold parts of you that’ll never be anyone else’s. Even if you are romantic enough to believe you’ve found your soulmate, it might not be appropriate to marry that person.”

Her voice now had a wistfulness to it that surpassed her usual sharpness. It wasn’t hard to see she once had that special person in her life and it wasn’t her husband.

“If I may suggest,” Gordon added after a healthy sip of her coffee and after setting the empty mug on the table with finality, “you should ask yourself if your plans for the future include working at the Manor.” It wasn’t much of a code.

Terry put more weight on the table as he grinned. “I believe that’s still on the table. Dana has accepted that part of my life.”

Terry paid their drinks before Gordon could and they both headed to the door. Gordon shook his hand and gently told him, “It’s nice to see you when you’re not in trouble, McGinnis. It’s a nice change of pace.”

With that last comment, Gordon walked out of Terry’s day.

******

_Watchtower, 35 years prior_

“…I am proud to be the spokesman for today’s events,” the announcer said. Superman could see Batman and J’onn in the foremost corner of the room, listening, one with a passive interest and the other with impatience.

The enumeration of the League’s prowess went on and on. Finally, the spokesman said, “I would like to give special thanks for our Founders that attended tonight despite their very busy schedule. Superman, everyone!”

The applauses were deafening as Superman held a hand in the air with a smile affixed at his lips.

“Martian Manhunter!”

The applauses were more restrained but filled with respect.

“Batman!”

Superman could see the audience glancing at Batman to see if it was okay to clap their hands or if he would threaten them if they did. It resulted in hesitant applause.

Soon after, the speech ended and Superman joined the two other founders still involved in the League, “Glad you could make it, Batman.”

Batman grumbled, “This is a waste of time.”

“It’s been ten years we started this project,” Superman answered, “And it’s all going strong.”

J’onn nodded. “The values, mission and vision we wrote down in the League’s Constitution are still faithfully followed. That is something to be proud of.”

Batman’s watch beeped. He glanced at it and nodded at the other two. “I have to go.” His cape whipped behind him as people jumped out of his way. Bruce always had that effect on people.

J’onn looked at him with a knowing expression. “He will be fine, Superman. He always is.”

Superman frowned. “It’s only been ten years, J’onn and we’re down to three of the seven founders. Except for you, he was the oldest one of us at the start.” Superman didn’t need to specify Bruce was over fifty years old; J’onn understood. It was only a matter of time before they’d be two.

J’onn gave him a gentle look. “I believe he would not quit being a ‘part-time’ member of the Justice League until his last breath. Until then, I cannot imagine him not hacking into the Justice League’s security system to upgrade it without our knowledge.”

Superman smiled. That would be a very Bruce thing to do; insisting he wasn’t part of something yet still consistently involving himself in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) In the Batman Beyond universe (comic and cartoons), Barbara Gordon and Bruce Wayne do in fact date after Dick Grayson leaves town to become Nightwing. In canon, Barbara even falls pregnant with Bruce's child and accidentally loses it. Terry knows about this incident.
> 
> 2) According to canon, the Justice League (Cartoon) following members are missing from the rooster not long after the cartoon timeline: Wonder Woman gets stuck in the Justice Lord universe ; Hawkgirl and Green Lantern die. I'm not sure where Flash is in canon during that period. I just added him in, because he's a speedster and they tend to either die (or more poetically, "join the speedforce") or disappear in another timeline.


	3. Richard Grayson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry visits his second "Bruce" expert.

“What are you doing here, kiddo?” Dick Grayson bluntly asked Terry.

Terry glanced around to verify everyone else in the gym was out of earshot. “I’ve got questions to ask you.”

Dick made a funny face. “Don’t you always.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I feel like I have to play catch up with around thirty years of tangled history you-know-who never bothers to tell me about,” Terry responded with his usual tact.

“Need I remind you: you can always quit,” Dick genuinely enough responded.

“I’m too stubborn for that,” Terry cockily answered.

Dick’s face told him it wouldn’t last. Terry felt annoyed; he’d been Batman for three years, for God’s sake!

Dick finally sighed. “We should probably head to my office.”

Terry followed into the office and Dick closed the door behind him.

The older man leaned back against the bookshelves with his arms crossed. “What’s up, Terry? Is there another threat to the city?”

Terry knew Dick hated formality even more than Gordon did; he figured it was an after-effect of having been raised by the richest man of Gotham city.

“Actually, I’m here on a more personal matter.”

Dick raised both eyebrows in a deliberate show of surprise.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Terry snarled, “Bruce just said something that’s bothering me.”

Dick’s face turned blank. “What did he say this time?”

“He told me he once asked someone’s hand in marriage and the person stormed away instead of responding.”

The older man straightened while his real and fake eyes seemed to assess Terry. “Why did he volunteer that information?”

Terry shrugged.

Dick shook his head. “He definitively has ulterior motives for bringing it up.” There was the same bitterness in Dick’s tone he reserved for the old man.

“Probably,” Terry agreed, not that he cared too much about it at the moment.

The older man’s fake eye pinned him. “You’re an adult, Terry. You don’t need to let him yank you around like a puppet.”

Terry raised one hand to stop the older man. “Look, Dick, I’m not about to pretend all’s fine between the old man and me, but, I’m here for information, not another lecture. He’s been behaving recently. I’m not complaining.”

Dick stared a moment longer, letting the tension ratchet up until his lips broke into a smile. “Then, let’s get straight to the questions.” Terry had the strange sense the other man had just pulled a joke on him.

“Do you know anything about Bruce’s weird proposal gone astray?”

Dick pondered and shook his head. “Not really, although I can already tell you he’s probably the one who drove the other person away.”

Terry frowned. “How is asking someone’s hand in marriage driving them away?”

The grin on the other man’s face was just a tad dark with resentment. “He’s an expert at driving people away, Terry. It’s possible he asked in a way that was insulting.”

Terry couldn’t believe his ears.

Dick sighed. “He always had a way of getting close to someone and then cutting all ties.” Not that Terry could deny the observation. As charming as Gordon had claimed Bruce could be, he was all alone in a dark manor in his old age.

“No idea on who he had been proposing to?”

“He loved villainesses. He dated Talia Al Ghul, Catwoman and Phantasm. Fellow heroes weren’t also out of the realms of possibilities. Babs. Zatanna. And it seems there was even something between him and Wonder Woman. Not that I know any details about that.”

“She married another dimension’s Batman,” Terry piped in.

The older man perked up. “Really? Is she happy? Last I heard of her, she disappeared a few decades ago.” Dick seemed genuinely interested in Wonder Woman’s fate.

Terry shrugged. “Don’t know. She went back to Them… Themycry…? you know, the island of the Amazons.”

There was slight silence before Dick commented, “You quit being a hero for a few years and you miss all the interesting gossip.”

“Does it ever stop being so strange?” Terry asked.

“Feeling out of the loop?”

“No, the weird ass things that keep happening to you as a hero?”

“You get somewhat used to that after some time. It’s not that bad if it doesn’t kill you.”

Terry paused. “I don’t know. It’s weird to meet another version of yourself who joined the Jokerz.”

Dick hummed. “Not the worse version I’ve seen of an alternate me.”

“Anyway, as interesting as this is, does this mean you have no idea who Bruce asked in marriage?”

“It’s out of character for him. I suppose he could have asked someone in marriage at the start of his Batman career. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed is that he tends to get stubborner with age. If I had told myself that when I started as Robin, I wouldn’t have believed he could be any more stubborn. I was so naïve back then.”

 _Naïve._ That word sounded so jaded in Dick’s mouth. It resonated with regret, bitterness and fondness. Truth be told, Terry had always known Dick had profoundly felt for Bruce, whether as his crime-fighting partner or as his son (or whatever else they called their relationship). Maybe it was because they had been so close to each other that it had hurt more when the relationship had fallen apart.

“Dick,” Terry impulsively asked, “Why aren’t you married?”

“You hitting on me, kiddo?”

At Terry’s scowl, Dick smirked. “I know I’m sexy, but I’m out of your league.”

The younger man rolled his eyes. “I retract my question. I now know why.”

Dick playfully shrugged. “You should have seen me in tights. I’m sure perverts still have pictures of me they jerk off to.”

Terry massaged his forehead.

Dick mischievously grinned at him before looking outside, face turning serious. “I never married because the opportunity passed me by.”

Terry stepped forward. “What do you mean exactly?”

“Timing is everything in most things in life.” Dick turned to Terry. “That’s how you know when it’s time to make a jump. That’s why the aerialists who don’t listen to their instincts find themselves dead or injured.”

“In your analogy, are you dead or injured?”

“Neither,” Dick answered. “I’m content with my life. Maybe I would have happier had I made the jump, maybe not. It’s not as if living with someone makes everything okay or if life without anyone specific by your side makes it awful. I get to choose my path without a need to explain or argue. That might be a blessing. I would not want to worry someone to death with my selfish choices. I suppose you know something about that dilemma.”

Terry didn’t need to nod his head to show he understood. Dana was almost too good for him. She’d know what Batman meant to him and how much this city needed Batman. The gnawing restlessness and fear were not something Terry could remove from her sight. They were the cost of their relationship, the cost of their future together.

***

_Gotham, 43 years prior_

Batman looked down at the city below himself. His city.

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” Kal’s voice resounded behind him.

“Don’t you have cats to save?” Batman answered.

Kal looked around as if to spot the cats he was supposed to save.

Bruce rolled his eyes. Kal floated down beside him. “It’s so quiet.”

Bruce hummed, still observing the mayhem-inducing city.

“Are you still up for our regular Thursday drink?”

Bruce gave a sharp nod. Normally, Superman would leave at this point. He didn’t.

Batman watched him, his eyes narrowing at the other superhero’s fidgeting.

Still, Kal stayed quiet. If Batman wasn’t immune to awkwardness, he would have spoken.

“I…” Kal started and fell silent.

“Lois is on a warpath again,” Bruce casually stated.

Kal lowered his head, his face burning. “She found out about the fact I hid everything about the Justice Lord world.”

Unbothered, Bruce dryly commented, “That’s the perks of dating an investigative reporter. If you wanted to keep your secrets to yourself, don’t date one.”

Kal gave him a weird look. “It’s just… How am I supposed to talk about everything the Justice League does? How am I supposed to talk about another version of myself going rogue? Becoming a tyrant? Maybe I will become him one day. How can I tell her that?”

Bruce leaned forward. The suspect was on the move. Batman grappled around, following the man from above. He perched himself above a church, observing the man’s moves.

“I’m sure you haven’t told Alfred,” Superman’s voice continued behind him. Batman glowered at him and snapped back his attention on the trench coat wearer. “Names.”

Superman paused. “Have you told him?”

Batman took out his binoculars and trained them on his suspect.

Superman floated behind, still waiting for an answer.

“Superman, hover away,” Batman growled out.

He could literally feel Superman crossing his arms on his chest in a childish display of rebellion. “No.”

Batman saw the suspect entering a store. “I’m not a dating advice expert.”

Superman huffed. “I’m not asking dating advice. I’m just…”

The suspect left the store with a big item in his hands.

“Then, what are you asking exactly?”

Superman tilted his head as if to figure out what he wanted before he sighed. “You’re right. You’re the wrong person to ask things like this of.” It was said without any insult.

Batman stopped himself from freezing at the implied reference of the ‘thing’ neither had previously broached. He had to pretend he didn’t know what Superman was getting at.

The suspect knocked on a door. A lady answered and she looked surprised at his visit. He offered her his package. Red roses, Bruce duly noted. The drug deal wasn’t for today, then. The lady kissed her beau and brought him inside. Simple and efficient, Bruce thought, the dealer seems to actually buy flowers from the store once in a while. It camouflages his other uses of it.

Superman’s voice hesitated, probably on whether he should push on the forbidden subject or not. Batman stopped himself from swallowing nervously. He could feel the intensity of the moment, the pulsing of the possibility, something he had compartmentalized away. His breath felt short and his skin tingling uncomfortably from anticipation. He opened his mouth to-

Right on time, Clark wisely withdrew. “See you, Thursday.”

Bruce grunted and he was alone among the sea of roofs and gargoyles that was Gotham’s sky view.


	4. Kal El (Superman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry visits his third "Bruce" expert.

Terry knew he had to find another angle to address his question. Which is why calling Kal-El, an old friend of Bruce, seemed the right thing to do.

Terry found himself feeling foolish, standing in the middle of nowhere, asking the wind, “Superman?”

“Terry? What’s wrong?”

Terry pacified him with a calming gesture. “Nothing’s wrong. I just have a few questions to ask you if you have the time for them.”

Superman nodded. “I’m fairly free at the moment. Shall we find somewhere more comfortable to talk?”

Terry quirked an eyebrow at the larger-than-life hero. “You’re Superman. Where do you think we can talk without getting disturbed?”

Superman did something at super speed and a nerdy man with glasses appeared on the spot. “I can be inconspicuous if I want to. Don’t tell me you thought I was Superman all the time?”

To be honest, Terry hadn’t really wondered what Superman did in his spare time. Terry shrugged his shoulders.

Superman, or who the hell he was when he wasn’t in costume, fondly sighed. “I had forgotten how jittery the whole secret identity thing is to Bruce.”

The younger man wanted to point out Bruce’s paranoia was hardly a detail in his personality but rather the defining vice of the product.

Instead, he simply asked, “How should I call you, then?”

The transformed man smiled. “Call me Clark Kent. I used to be a retired Daily Planet reporter. I only changed identity after my wife’s death.”

Superman had lost a wife?

Terry’s questionable good manner finally kicked in. “Sorry.”

The strangely nerdy looking Superman tilted his head. “Don’t worry. I’m guessing Bruce didn’t tell you anything about me except how to defeat me if I go rogue.” Bull’s eye, Terry thought but knew better than to confirm.

“Any places you want to recommend? My treat,” Terry offered.

“Why don’t you suggest something? I fear I don’t quite know much about this new Gotham city,” Clark asked, voice an octave lower than his Superman's voice.

“Hop in,” He told Clark and they drove to a café. Along the way, they discussed their latest cases and any worrying signs of criminal activity in their respective cities.

Dick was right; superhero gossip was the best. Superman had even laughed at Terry’s assertion that supervillains have the literal worse timing ever, especially when you’re in a relationship.

They entered the café and took their places in a secluded booth.

Clark glanced around. “This place is nice.”

“I thought you’d feel right at home. It’s a retro café,” Terry pointed out. Clark didn’t seem insulted in the least.

“You had a wife before?” Terry finally asked after they had ordered coffees.

Clark looked at him over his glasses. “Yes.”

“Weren’t there issues about your line of work?”

Clark looked him straight in the eyes as he said, “It was hard but worth it. Communication and compromise are the two foundations of any lasting relationship.”

The waiter came and placed their coffees on the table. When he was out of earshot, Terry asked, “She was fine with your ‘job’?”

Clark gave him a sad smile. “She was an incredible person. The transition period after her death was hard but I figured loving someone dearly is always worth it.”

Terry felt the man’s optimism should be enshrined.

“Did you call me today, because you’re struggling with your own identity?” Clark gently prodded Terry.

Terry cleared his throat. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Bruce.”

“Is he okay?” Clark’s tone grew serious and concerned as he settled down his drink with a frown.

The younger man gestured reassuringly. “Still as grumpy as usual. However, he told me that he once asked someone in marriage and the person yelled at him and stormed away.”

Clark blanched and fumbled with his mug’s handle. “He told you that?!?”

“Yeah, he did,” Terry answered. “Do you know what that story is all about?”

Clark looked stunned and drank a sip as if to wake up. After he had taken a healthy sip, he cautiously replied, “This is the first time I’ve heard him talking about that incident.”

Terry felt disappointed this venue wouldn’t grant him any answers. “You have no idea?”

Clark shook his head and fell silent, watching the table’s checkered black and white pattern. Terry found it ugly but knew better than to comment on the anachronous style to someone who had lived in that time period.

The younger man exhaled with his mouth. “This is so frustrating. Guess I’ll never know why he even mentioned it in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Clark answered, eyes still locked into the table.

“Why?” Terry narrowed his eyes. He hated being kept in the dark because he was younger than this old generation.

“Bruce’s secrets have secrets. It’s not something you should be tumbling around without being initiated,” the older man’s tone was harsh while his accent was soft.

They finished their coffee in silence.

***

_Metropolis, 13 years prior_

Clark stared at the wall, unable to even concentrate on the sounds outside his home.

“Clark,” a voice called out, more gently than he had ever heard it address to him.

Clark mournfully felt the freezing air from the open window. “You’re over seventy, Bruce. Use the door, not the window.”

Bruce walked closer, his hand still on his cane. “You weren’t answering.”

Clark blinked. Bruce probably already knew where he hid his spare key. He had just decided to enter by the window anyway.

Bruce looked at Clark who stared at the wall. They stayed there, without another word, and Clark was thankful Bruce understood him so well. He wanted quietness without being alone.

The next time Clark zoomed out of his mind, Bruce was sitting beside him, shoulders almost touching.

“When is it?” Clark finally asked.

“When do you want it to be?” Bruce answered.

Clark closed his eyes. Never, he yearned to say. “I don’t know.”

Bruce nodded as if he had known that would be Clark’s answer.

“Then, it’s in two days.”

Clark leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder and, although Bruce’s body tensed, he didn’t move away.

“The flowers?”

“Her favourite,” Bruce answered.

Clark focused his hearing on Bruce’s steady heartbeat. Lois’s had gone quiet forever. He had no more tears to shed.

Maybe he fell asleep in that position, maybe he simply zoomed out of reality as he was prone to do nowadays. He felt a gentle hand in his hair. “If you don’t want to be alone right now, you can always stay at the Manor.”

That is nice, Clark thought, Bruce never invited anyone to the Manor except his kids. He could still learn to make compromises…

That thought burned his throat. It had no place in Clark’s life. He had to get away from here, from Earth. He couldn’t desecrate his wife’s memory. He couldn’t already yearn someone else’s affection and touch.

“I’ve been thinking of visiting other planets,” Clark lied, his voice weak.

Bruce took his time to answer. “That might be a good distraction.”

Clark hummed. It felt so comfortable, here and now. It was too easy to get lulled into this, whatever this was.

He had to leave Earth before he got too cozy.


	5. Superman's choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal El and Bruce Wayne finally have a conversation.

Jolts were not always a bad thing. Sometimes, they woke you up when you needed it. Sometimes, they tore through your defences like an arrow through your soul. It was sometimes hard to say which was which. Harder still where it concerned Bruce. Maybe it was due to the man’s blunt nature or his lack of communicative skills, but everything was harder where it concerned Bruce. Acquaintances. Colleagues. Friends…

Nonetheless, Superman had long since accepted the obvious drawbacks of his relationship with Bruce. And it still needed to be cultivated.

And, behold, there, below Kal, there stood the devil in question out of his evil lair. Leaning on his cane, he’d been observing the empty Wayne gardens with the frown that had been responsible for forming some of the wrinkles adorning his forehead.

Kal quietly descended and landed beside the unflinchingly stoic man.

“Hi, Bruce. It’s a nice weather for an outdoor stroll,” Kal softly remarked as he observed the clinging weeds make their way into this previously opulent flower garden. The breeze was warm enough not to be harmful to the older man beside him and there was the special sight of direct sunlight in Gotham, which, according to Kal’s observations, tended to happen less than twice a month on average. Bruce probably had more updated statistics on the issue, especially if it correlated the outside weather with criminal activities.

After a moment, Kal added, “I’ve always been wondering why you never planted back this garden. Alfred showed me pictures of it when it flourished with a variety of plants, especially the magnificent blood-red roses that once stood here.”

At the continuous lack of reply, Kal gently proposed, “Maybe I could help you replant it with life. My apartment and the Fortress aren’t good places for growing things. I kind of miss the feel of dirt between my fingers. I’m sure that together, we could bring back its astonishing colours.”

“I burned it,” Bruce growled, his eyes slightly narrowing.

“You did what?”

“I burned the roses,” the man repeated, hands both placed on his loyal cane companion.

Kal turned to face Bruce’s unmoving profile. “Why would you burn the roses?” He made sure to avoid sounding accusatory.

“It was her favourite.”

Kal tried to deduce his friend’s cryptic meaning. “Wouldn’t it be a reason to keep them well? To care for them in your mother’s memory?”

“They meant nothing in her absence.”

In a strange Bruce-like way it made sense to demolish what your loved ones enjoyed watching. There was an eerie lack of equilibrium with Bruce; he had lived all his life in his barely changed parents’ house while still burning his mother’s bushes of rose to the ground. He probably did it when he was barely a teen. Kal could only imagine Alfred’s reaction to the sight of a black haired boy standing confidently and angrily in front of the burning rose garden. What a sight it must have been…

Kal swallowed and changed the subject as he whipped his head forward, making it parallel to Bruce's. “Where’s Ace? I haven’t seen him outside.”

“He’s sick.”

Kal cut in a look at his friend. “How bad?”

“Not much. He’s just a bit weak.”

“I hope he gets better soon.”

“Mmmm...”

In order to combat the lull in the conversation, Kal interjected, “I’ve recently seen Terry.”

That only got him a barely interested. “And.”

“He was asking some interesting questions about my personal life.”

When that drew no answer, Kal almost accused, “It seemed like he wanted relationship advice and you sent him on a quest to find it elsewhere.”

This time, there was a glint of something in Bruce’s eyes as he looked at Kal’s face.

“You didn’t need to tell him the misleading comment about your proposal if the quest was your purpose,” Kal added with a sharpness he rarely used outside of his leader’s role, which, for some reason or another, coincided more often than not with Bruce’s presence. How dare Bruce tell something to Terry when he hadn’t ever discussed the matter with Kal! For weeks after the incident, Kal had been so certain he had broken any chances of continuing their friendship that he had tiptoed around his friend. It was only when he noticed Bruce’s attitude in his regards hadn’t changed one bit that he had ceased his cautious behaviour. Bruce’s indifference was insulting.

“I did not mislead him,” Bruce affirmed as he half-turned to face Kal.

Superman spluttered on his reply. “That’s…”

Bruce cut him off, his eyes ablaze, but his voice dangerously low, “I went on my knees and asked you in marriage. You yelled at me and ran away. Didn’t all of those events happen in exactly that order?”

Kal’s voice went an octave higher. “You forgot to mention you were furious at me when you asked me that! You were trying to prove a stupid point!”

Bruce straightened his head back. “Which I did.”

Kal slowed down and looked at his feet with the dawning realization Bruce had, in fact, proven his point. He clenched his fists and fell silent.

They stayed there in strained silence until Kal whispered, “I did write a letter. You never answered.”

“I didn’t,” Bruce confirmed, “I burned it without reading it.”

Kal lifted his eyes in shock to stare at his best friend. “Wh…at?”

“I burned it,” Bruce enunciated, eyes now fixed on the place rose bushes should have been.

Kal took his time digesting the news; he felt ill in a way he hadn’t since his wife’s death. He’d written the letter with great care in order not to spook Bruce away. It was his first tentative step. Not that it had led anywhere since Bruce had burned it… But, he had really tried to see if he could imagine anything between himself and his best friend if it was true his friend had feelings for him. He’d often think about the unexplored possibility, even years later when he was married to Lois. It was always on the back of his mind. A secluded section of his mind had wondered if he could be happy with him. Kal clenched his fists. He knew it would be hard to get through Bruce; must it always be such an arduous task?

“You always told me communication was key,” Bruce solemnly continued. “Yet, when the time came for you to answer me yes or no, you fled. That letter was the coward’s way out and you took it. It took you over forty years to broach the matter with me. Isn’t it proof enough of my point?”

The burning sensation in Kal’s throat seemed to paralyze him on the spot, his arguments were frozen on the tip of his tongue. Bruce had a way of callously eliminating everything on his path.

Bruce assessed him with cold eyes. “You told me I, out of the two of us, was the one who feared commitment; that I should not enter in a relationship lightly; that I should try to make it last forever.”

That was true enough.

Back then, Kal had kept hearing rumours about Bruce’s total lack of decorum with girls as if they were one-night stands even when the girls’ intentions were clearly not that casual. On the eve of the conversation, Clark had seen him ignore an earlier conquest at the gala. He had decided to interfere.

His eidetic memory could remember everything, but some scenes especially burned themselves into your retina and couldn’t be unseen or unheard. He could remember the tangible humid heat in Gotham that summer. The oppressive stench of sweat had characterized Clark’s memory of walking in Gotham during the heat wave. He’d positioned himself in the Batcave that morning to see Bruce’s return from patrol and, even in the cave; the intense wet humidity seemed to bear down on the room. He could see Bruce entering the room and violently discarding his gauntlets and his cowl on the ground. He knew, even back then, he should postpone the conversation to a more timely moment. However, the angry look in Bruce’s face had pinned him to the wall as he asked him why he was there in that hard Alpha tone he used to exert control over his interlocutors. Clark, well, back then, he too was immature and he hadn’t yet learned how to avoid being goaded into a fight with his best friend when he was in a mood. Of course, the conversation had soon devolved into a very memorable fight.

And Clark had made the mistake of telling him he needed to communicate his intention much more clearly to the girls that thought he was serious. He had even added that Bruce should not be searching the world for temporary band-aids; love wasn’t something you should play at, you had to bare all of your soul; you should be able to gamble all your future on it.

Bruce’s nostrils had flared and he had dropped to his knees in an enraged motion. His sweaty hair was pressed any which way. At the time, Clark had almost had a panic attack with the uncharacteristic action from his best friend.

Then, Bruce had brusquely grabbed his hand. With fury fuelled eyes and an intractable posture, he had asked him in marriage in a loud unwieldy voice, “Clark Kent, Kal-El, would you marry me?”

Could anyone really blame Kal’s panicked reaction? For his confused yells? For the way he had shamefully fled?

What was he supposed to think? That Bruce was seriously asking his hand in marriage during a fight? Clark had never heard even a wisp of rumour Bruce was even into men. And Clark and Bruce had certainly never dated. Clark had this endless crush on his female Daily Planet colleague. And Bruce… Well, he never seemed to take his romantic relationships seriously.

Needless to say, Superman hadn’t been able to face Bruce directly on the matter, but he knew better than to completely ignore the issue, hence why he wrote a letter. For which he never got an answer and, apparently, never would.

“I…” the words stuck in Kal’s mouth in a way his insults hadn’t when Bruce had proposed. This time, he was stuck in the mess they’d made. Now that he knew Bruce had probably been serious back then, did it mean he now had a chance?

Bruce’s lips pulled into a paper thin line, his feature looked sterner than ever, as he turned and walked back toward his old Manor, his own protective turtle shell. Kal instinctively knew he only had a few moments before this possibility too passed him by.

His mind was stupidly blank until he uttered the first words on his mind, “Does that mean you agree on my garden idea?”

Bruce stopped and turned to him as if he was crazy.

Kal forced himself to smile. “Does that mean I can help you choose the seeds to plant in the garden?”

The other’s man simply focused on him, waiting… maybe, some part of Kal thought, to be convinced?

Kal thought about the empty Manor and the abandoned garden. “I think this garden could use some new life. What do you think?”

Their eyes met despite the distance the years had driven between them. For one infinite-like moment, they almost reached some spark of an unspoken agreement, a spellbinding communion, until Bruce furrowed his eyebrows.

Bruce turned and retreated into the gigantic carapace that was his home, leaving Kal alone amongst the burned rose garden.


	6. Batman's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce thinks.

The Manor was always the same.

Lifeless. Cold. Unyielding.

Yet, it pulled him back all the same because it was home.

It loomed large over his head as it did over his mind. It owned him.

His steps resonated against the emptiness of the Manor. Now, like before, he preferred to head downstairs where the real him lived.

He opened the clock's coverglass and moved the two hands to 10:48. It unlocked his way downstairs.

The way down hadn’t changed: steep and unforgiving.

He found himself observing Batman’s suit. Not his and Terry’s. His. The one he had worn most of his career: the one Kal glanced at when he visited: the one that held almost all of his memories. His mirrored face in the glass case was old, rugged and harsh. Time hadn’t been kind to him. It seldom was to mortals like him.

Kal and Diana had aged gracefully. They could both fight without worrying about their heart unwittingly failing them at the moment of truth.

He, on the other hand, had grown old without outgrowing the cowl.

He once thought he would die long before his body would betray him. In more ways than one, he’d wish for the simplicity that solution would have afforded him. He certainly didn’t choose to live this long.

When he had retired all those years ago, he thought his mind would do some good elsewhere. It had taken him years of bitter ‘transition’ to figure out that even though his body couldn’t be Batman, his mind was always Batman.

He was the soldier that never came back, not so much physically as metaphysically. As outdated and useless as he was, he could never be anything but Batman.

Along his road to being the perfect vigilante, he’d forged ahead through any kind of hardship, cutting out all the weights that could delay him. It was only later he found out he’d also cut everyone else out. It was a small price to pay to gain the privilege of being Batman. He’d still have done the same to save even one life.

That’s what he always reminded himself when he woke up in pain.

Terry was a good kid. However, Bruce doubted not even Terry truly understood how intertwined the connection between Batman and Bruce had grown over the years. There was no way to separate them any longer. Unlike Bruce, Terry could compartmentalize and build a life outside of Batman.

Bruce’s reflection showed its dislike of its subject with a frown.

He turned away and walked to his Kryptonite hiding spot under his numerous levels of security. Instead of taking the Kryptonite in its lead recipient, the man typed into another keypad and grabbed a locked container. The man closed all the security and he purposefully strode to his chair by the computer. He typed another security code in the container and it unlocked. There was only a laminated sheet of paper in it. He carefully took it in his hands and read it again.

***

_Dear Bruce,_

_I don’t know how to start this letter._

_It’s hard to know if what you asked in the Cave was a prank or not. I don’t mean it in a way that’s insulting. It’s just… You never showed any interest in me like that and you suddenly ask me to marry you out of the blue? How should I take it? Am I a fool if I answer sincerely?_

_Maybe I am. It’s better to be sincere than to be dismissive of another’s feelings. At least, that’s what Ma always told me._

_Let's start all over again._

_I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made accusations about your behaviour after patrol. I should have chosen a better time and setting for the conversation. I also shouldn’t have said most of what I said. It’s not true you lack commitment; you wouldn’t be who you are and you wouldn’t do what you do if it were true. If anything, you do invest yourself entirely in your Mission, sometimes too much for my liking. It’s the same about gambling with your future. I shouldn’t have said you don’t gamble with your future. You do so almost every night. For all of those things, I’m sorry._

_However, I think the thing I’m most apologetic about is my reaction to your proposal. Even if you were not serious, I should have tried to understand what you were really saying. You don’t lie or mislead without reasons. I doubt you would pretend to have feelings for me if it’s a lie; to the contrary, I can imagine you hiding your feelings because you don’t want to hurt me. I don’t understand why you would propose to me. That part confused me and I’m sorry for taking out my frustration on you. It’s not your fault._

_Next time, I will properly listen to the end of what you have to say._

_If you are serious, I’ll consider it with the gravity the situation warrants. I won’t ever dismiss you or your feelings as unimportant. You do mean a lot in my life and what you feel about our relationship is important to me._

_Please tell me when you are ready to talk about this. My ears are always ready for you._

_Your friend,_

_Clark Kent_

***

The hands delicately put the letter back in its container and locked it again. The man’s strides faltered somewhat before they reached the letter’s hiding place. He needed his pills: the ones that helped suppress his heart’s problems. He gobbled them down and continued more wearily to the safe after going through all his levels of security. Again, he placed the container in its special hiding place near the Kryptonite. He knew Kal would never go there.

He locked everything up again and walked to his chair, wobbling once along the way. He seated himself in it and stared at the blank computer screen, both hands on his cane. Terry wouldn’t come by tonight except if there’s an emergency.

He had instigated everything by making that wistful comment to Terry. He knew the boy couldn’t resist looking for the truth, especially since he had been distracted by the desire to ask his girlfriend in marriage. It hadn’t been hard to calculate the boy’s itinerary. Barbara. Then, Dick. And, finally, Kal. He would always tackle Superman last because he was an obvious fan of him. As a side benefit, Terry could rely on good advice about relationships, not just an old man’s bitter memories, in order to make the right choice for himself.

Kal would visit Bruce. He wouldn’t be able to resist the indirect invitation. That’s what he had done.

And it had fallen apart… Because Bruce just couldn’t resist it.

He had just restarted building bridges in his life with Barbara, Tim and Dick. He’d spent his years as Batman burning his bridges; he had never really learned how to build them. He knew what he now had was fragile, especially with Dick. He had hurt his son the most. Despite his normally forgiving nature, there were things even he couldn’t let go.

Kal, on the other hand, was one of the only constants in his life. It was a relationship spanning over forty years in which neither had been estranged for more than a year. Ever since Alfred died, Clark was Bruce's social rock; the one he’d rely on when things went wrong. He was Clark. And Clark was always there in his times of need.

He’d even ignored Bruce’s ill-timed confession all those years ago. Bruce could only feel thankful his best friend had never directly confronted him about it before today.

Maybe, some things were destined not to change… Bruce didn’t like gambling on romance. It brought more heartbreak and problems than anything else. He was comfortable with the present situation. It would be a shame to ruin another relationship over nothing.


	7. Epilogue

His eyes found the target of his ire: his telephone. It would be so simple to make the call. 

Bruce leaned back and steepled his hands together. It was just a call.

It would mean nothing more to do so. 

They called one another once in the while. It wasn’t that unusual. 

It was too soon, though. They had met that very same day. Calling would send the wrong kind of message. One of availability. 

Bruce missed Ace by his side. It was strange to hear the bats’ screeches as the only proof of life other than himself in the cave.

Calling would be a tactical error. It would denote there was something more between them. Or that it could exist. 

He didn’t even have anything important to say. No motives that would lend his call any legitimacy as a business call.

The telephone seemed to nag him by its proud presence that didn’t even try to negotiate its safety. Bruce frowned. He must have lost more than he had realized if he couldn’t even scare the punks running this city with one icy glare. His shadow had often been enough to make the more macho of them stutter in fear.

Bruce looked at the computer screen and couldn’t work on it. The phone was always on the edge of his vision, ever persistent in its endeavour to persuade him. 

It wouldn’t work. He had ruthlessly trained his willpower. And that wasn’t something that was out of shape, unlike his physical body. He knew how to deny himself anything he might want.

The computer’s line rang and he immediately pressed answer on the screen while saying with his habitual gruff “yes.”

“Hey! I’m not coming over tonight except if there’s a real emergency,” Terry’s youthful voice said at a faster flow than usual while his face glowed with absolute glee.

“She said yes,” Bruce calmly stated.

“How’d you…? Never mind. Yes, we’re engaged.”

Bruce leaned back in his seat and steepled more profoundly his hands. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Think you can hold the fort alone tonight?” Terry enthusiastically replied, his eyes glued to something out of the screen’s range. He was excited in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. His eyes shined with pure undiluted joy. 

“Will do,” Bruce caustically answered. 

“Don’t forget to feed the bats and say hi to Ace for me.” Terry hung up. 

Bruce harrumphed and looked at the ceiling’s darkness. The bats will be fine. They always were. They were home after all. That’s all that ever mattered.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] The Incandescent Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454608) by [angelandfaith (nowrunalong)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/angelandfaith)




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